


I Will Always Hold On To You

by orphan_account



Series: Homecoming [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: (if that even exists), Angst, Bloodstones, Carlos is still gone, Cecil is trying to come to terms with it, Depression, Homecoming, I'm keeping major character death for the warnings, M/M, OT3-ness, Suicidal Thoughts (?), The Erikas!, cause Carlos is still dead and that's a big part of this, lil bit o cursing on Vansten's behalf, with eventual OT4-ness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is gone and all that remains is the searing memory of his image flickering from Cecil's grasp under the blinding lights of the football stadium. There is nothing left for the radio host, all that he loves is gone. Even his wonderful and terrible Night Vale cannot fill the void in his heart, and all seems lost. </p>
<p>But is there the possibility of hope? Of closure? Or maybe... </p>
<p>Of continuance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Weeks dragged by and still he could not come to terms with Carlos’ death. His broadcasts were shaky and mournful as he desperately tried to keep some sort of composure, but he somehow always found himself curling into a sobbing mess during the weather. The whole town could hear the restriction in his throat afterwards, and there was a simultaneous tug to everyone’s hearts when he bade them a meek goodnight.

It was never a good night for any of them, not when their most beloved Voice was in so much pain.

On the rare occurrences that he did leave the apartment, the sad glances and heart-felt condolences only left him feeling more empty than before and he would return home to sob into his pillow, clutching tightly to one of Carlos’ labcoats.

The days crawled by, and he hardly did even the basics of looking after himself so The Faceless Old Woman took it upon herself to keep the apartment clean, Khoshekh fed, and the alcohol diluted.

She did her best not to engage him, though, only throwing a spare word here and there to indicate she was impartial to his situation and more invested in the upkeep of her home. As cruel as it seemed, she had seen this same occurrence countless of times before in the billions of homes she had resided and no conversation could impede the inevitable. Even during his worst spells, she quelled the fluttering sensation of emotion, shaking her faceless head, knowing all too well what was to become of him. He would get better, yes, but the future held much more afterwards and she could not change any of it.

This thought visited her multiple times each day and she would immerse herself in pointless busy work as she tried to drown out the pitiful moans from the bedroom. Her shriveled heart ached terribly but she forced herself to remain unfazed and uncaring. Allowing herself to slip into the gaping maw of human emotion would do nothing for either of them so she simply plodded on, silently relishing and loathing the day this would all end.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place about three or so months before the next Homecoming. Cecil's starting to get on with his life but not really.

_Kisses. Warm, moist, and slightly rough._

Carlos had been in the desert so long that Cecil didn’t even mind the scientist’s sun chapped lips applying the osculations to his nose. It was a lovely sensation to wake up to and he smiled in his morning haze, still stuck between waking and dreaming.

He reached out and stroked his fingers through the scientist’s soft tresses. He didn’t remember them being so short but that was probably because Carlos had been in such a haste to have it cut after the lengths it had grown to in the desert that he had gone to Telly’s again. Cecil had reassured himself that Telly’s son wouldn’t be as harsh with the scissors but now his fingers reminded him that barbaric barbery ran in the Savalas family.

Short or long, it was still Carlos’ hair and Cecil let himself sink back into a dreamy fog, content with the knowledge that his boyfriend was safely home.

This didn’t last long as Carlos suddenly shifted and the radio host’s hands were left grasping at empty air.

“Nooo.” He weakly protested, his hand patting at the pillow, eyes still refusing to open. His fingertips brushed against the ends of hair and he rolled onto his side to get his hands a little closer.

A few seconds of blind groping and he re-established contact with Carlos.

Except the desperate movements had brought him far enough out of his drowsy incoherence and his eyes and consciousness cracked open just enough for him realize that he had, in fact, _not_ re-established contact with Carlos.

Carlos was not even here.

He slowly let go of Khoshekh who was slightly perturbed at the lustful petting he had just received, and blinked into the fuzzy grey light that spilled in through the window. He blinked and blinked but his vision seemed to film even further and it took a few seconds for him to realize he was crying.

He rolled back over and laced his hands onto his stomach as the tears flowed freely down, tickling his temples as they went. It had been almost a year since Homecoming and his heart was only just starting to settle. This still didn’t prevent the breakdowns every morning and evening.

At the very least he had managed to break past the debilitating depression, finding some solace in achieving a constant state of indifferent melancholy.

He let out a shaking sigh, broken by a slight hiccup as he inhaled and brought a weak hand up to rub away the wetness in his eyes.

New liquid quickly reformed as his mind wandered back to that day. To those moments. Those horrible bits of precious time in which he wished he had said so much, done so much but had only wept in his lover’s arms.

And then there were the nightmares.

They visited him almost every evening and rarely varied in their horrific scenes.

Sometimes, he would lose Carlos’ hand a thousand times over or the crowd would grow thicker and thicker around him as he shouted and searched, desperation laced in every fiber of his body.

In others, he would see him, see the vanishing frame and he would run and run but Carlos would only become farther away. He would run and scream and cry until he was a million miles away, the scientist a mere speck but every detail of him still visible. Every disappearing piece of him still etched in Cecil’s vision as he clawed at the air around him, trying with everything he had to reach him.

But the worst was when he did reach him. When he would hold tighter and tighter to the scientist in an attempt to keep him on the material plane, whimpering and begging for him to stay. But still he would feel him slipping from his reality, flickering and flitting back and forth between _gone_ and _still here_. And each second from that moment was so clear, a word for word, emotion for emotion replay of the scene that made Cecil feel as if he were experiencing it all over again. But it wasn’t so because this horrific manifestation in his mind knew exactly where to hit him hardest. A cruel, sadistic part of his psyche knew just what to do to torture his dreams and memories, because what made this nightmare stand out from the rest, what made his heart break even in his dreaming state, what made him wake in a cold sweat, blinking blindly into the inky, empty night with the dream remnants lingering long enough to constrict his throat and bring heavy tears to his eyes was that Carlos would not say his words.

He would not tell Cecil they would be together forever, that he would always be with him. Cecil would gasp his lines over and over into the scientist’s labcoat but he would not receive Carlos’ reassuring sentiments. Their last seconds together would be stretched into the hours that only dreams can create and Cecil would plead for Carlos’ reply a thousand times over only to be left with the same, stoic response before the scientist melted into the air, leaving Cecil to crumple to his knees.

_“Ahh, fuck.”_ He whispered, rubbing viciously at his damp eyes, hoping this would also clear away the memories of his nightmare.

The rising sun was now casting thin rays through the window, creating thousands of sparkling gold stars as they refracted in his tears and he blinked them away.

Khoshekh had returned, a little less wary of his owner’s odd behavior, and he pawed tentatively at his right arm. Cecil unlaced his fingers and lifted his arm, allowing the cat to crawl onto his stomach where he curled into an almost perfect sphere (save for his protruding spine ridges).

He gently lowered his hands, making sure to avoid the poisonous ridges, (how he had done so in his morning delirium was beyond him) and a few seconds later, Khoshekh was purring contentedly. The soft rumbling felt good on the radio host’s palms and rhythmically reassuring in his ears.

He thought for a few moments about getting up and starting the day. He had to prepare today’s broadcast and Josie had wanted to talk to him about something but he soon decided against all that.

He would have time later and the comforting sounds from Khoshekh soon had him dipping back into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep. A sleep where he could finally escape the pain of real life and just not think about Carlos for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have more plot elements, I promise. These first two are just to set it all up and to make you feel like depressed crap, sorry about that. 
> 
> Also those kisses at the beginning were from Khoshekh licking his nose. I couldn't figure out how to work that explanation in so here's some clarification if it didn't make sense.


	3. Chapter 3

Cecil woke a few hours later, his chest devoid of a poisonous feline though a sticky film and a few stray hairs hissing with the promise of venom lay in a thin coat on the blanket. He gingerly lifted the covers and slid his legs over the side of the bed before throwing the quilt into a heap on the floor.

“I’m not cleaning that up.”

The passive voice echoed from near the window and Cecil turned only to see a faint swish of the curtains as The Faceless Old Woman scurried away.

“I don’t expect you to.” He lied, eliciting a faint scoff from her.

The fact was, he had become extremely dependent on her. He hadn’t realized this in the first few months she’d started looking after him, but after breaking through to a semi-conscious reality and acceptance that Carlos was gone, he found he still couldn’t get along without her assistance.

He sat for a few silent seconds, hoping for a retort of any kind but was met with only a heavy blankness that signified she had either left or was simply watching and refusing to engage in conversation.

“Can you please just talk to me?” He sighed.

“No.” She replied, indifferent and cold.

“But you just did.” He pointed out, eyes scanning a spot flitting at the edge of his periphery.

“That doesn’t count and neither does this, now if you’ll excuse me I have things to take care of.”

There was a skittering muffled by a _pomf_ sound and Cecil looked over to see the quilt had vanished.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, though he knew she had really left this time and so could not hear him.

He looked over at the clock on his bedside table. It glared a neon 11:14 at him in bright, green numbers and he groaned. He shouldn’t have slept in, but then again, it had felt good to “pamper” himself after a night filled with thrashing images. A lump formed in his throat and he quickly swallowed, forcing the scenes from his mind. If he started to think on them again, he’d probably just sink back into his pillows, blanket or no blanket, and nothing would get done.

He stood up shakily and stumbled to the bathroom where he stripped off his boxers and t-shirt before stepping into the shower. The hot water felt good and he leaned his head on his forearm, sighing deeply into the rising steam.

The Faceless Old Woman left a towel on the sink’s edge and a clean pair of boxers and he dried quickly.

“What’s this all about?” He called into the apartment as he stepped back into the bedroom, towel pausing the rough drying it was giving his hair. One of his best outfits had been laid onto the bed: a crisp, white dress shirt with a rich plum tie laid on top, over that was his deep navy vest and matching pinstripe slacks, even his best shoes had been polished and set at the foot of the bed.

“You have a visitor.” The whispery voice replied from somewhere on the ceiling.

“Who is it?”

There was a long pause before she spoke and when she did, her tone held the slightest hint of hope.

“Someone who can help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasps* Who is it you guys? Is he really gonna get help? Knowing me, you probably shouldn't be too hopeful for that ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Cecil’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What does that mean?”

But she had already left and his question was left hanging in the air, unanswered. He dressed quickly, the clothes felt odd as he had become used to sweatpants and t-shirts, and puzzled over who (or what) it could be as people had stopped visiting him months ago. No one had really caught on at first that he wanted absolutely no human contact because it only reminded him that it wasn’t Carlos who was holding him. He had even denied seeing Janice, much to the little girl’s teary disappointment and his sister’s and brother in law’s confusion.

Eventually, everyone realized that they were doing him no good and the calls and texts and light raps at the apartment door stopped.

“It’s rude to keep guests waiting.”

He finished tying the laces of his shoes and, ignoring the impatient skritches of what he assumed was one of her fingernails on the moulding, grabbed his phone to take a quick picture to see just how bad he looked.

If the clothes had seemed foreign, the person staring back from the screen was even more so. His complexion, usually a rich olive tone, had faded to a gaunt paleness that was only a shade or so darker than the snowy hair hanging limp on his forehead. He rustled his fingers through it in an attempt to give it a little life but only succeeded in making it stand in odd places. His eyes, usually a sparkling amethyst, had dulled to an almost grey hue, heavily accentuated by the identical crescents of dark under each one. He had lost weight, too, and the clothes hung every so slightly off of his frame giving him a disheveled look.

A sharp fingernail suddenly scratched down his neck and he whipped around. There was no one there but a heavy sense of impatience hung in the surrounding air and he sighed.

“Okay, I’m coming.”

He took one last look at the picture, attempted to teased a few strands of hair into place, and made his way out to the living room.

Cecil looked up just as the visitor hastily set the framed photo of him and Carlos at Radon Canyon back down.

“Hello, Ceec.”

Cecil stepped forward, tears welling in his eyes as he embraced his friend. He buried his face in the chef’s coat that smelled of smoke and burnt meat, holding tight to the sensation of closeness before looking up into mismatched eyes.

“Hello, Earl.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, what have I done? 
> 
> Also, I kinda made it seem like Cecil hadn't seen him since he was dragged away by the mute children but he's just remembering how good it is to have his friend back and there to comfort him.
> 
> You can thank longhairshortfuse for Earl. They got the damn thought started and it snowballed out of control.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil is offered a proposal no one in their right mind could ever refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MindfulWrath gave me permission to use "Aggie" for The Faceless Old Woman's name. I thought it would be a nice touch to add.

Cecil sighed back into Earl’s shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, he felt safe. After months of denying physical contact, the strong arms around him felt incredibly reassuring, like they could somehow pull out all of the pain and longing and simply keep him protected and loved and hopeful and warm.

“How’re you holding up?” Earl soothed, rubbing gentle circles into Cecil’s back.

“Terribly.” Cecil half laughed half hiccuped as he lifted his head.

Earl let go as the radio host wiped his eyes and stood quiet for a few seconds.

“So,” Cecil finally said, rubbing his arm and staring intently at the floor, “The Faceless Old Woman said you can… help?”

He shifted his gaze back up and the look in his eyes was like the begging stare of a stray puppy imploring a little boy to take him home. It shattered through Earl’s heart and he swallowed hard.

“Well, yes.” he managed, motioning for Cecil to sit down. He did and Earl joined him, taking his hand in both of his calloused ones. “I-I think I can. I’ll need some help from Josie and an Erika or two, but it all really depends on whether I can recall the specific chants and bloodstone arrangements.” He let out a sigh. “It’s been so long since I was Scoutmaster, Cecil, but I’ll try, I really will.” He paused for a minute, silently working away the hitch in his throat and when he spoke again, his voice had dropped to a calming whisper. “I’d go to the ends of the Void and back if it meant I could help you.”

_**CRAAACK!!** _

“GOOD GODS!” Cecil yelped, clutching tight to Earl as a blaze of fiery feathers and electricity exploded into the apartment.

“It’s okay, Cecil, it’s okay!” Earl called over the loud rustle of plumage. “It’s just Josie!”

A bit of color returned to Cecil’s nearly marble cheeks as Earl rubbed his hand.

“W-wow.” The radio host stammered. “I didn’t know the Erikas could teleport.”

“Yeah, well,” Earl stood to address the new visitors. “I told her to come by car but I guess she didn’t listen. Did you, Josie?” He remarked to the frail old woman emerging from the crimson angel’s feathery cocoon.

“Don’t you gimme lip!” She brandished her cane and Earl rolled his eyes. She ignored him, turned her attention to Cecil, and hobbled over.

“How ya doin’ hon’?” She rested a withered hand on his knee and he managed a smile. “Jest as I thought...” She mumbled, “C’mere.” She pulled him off the couch with a surprising strength and hugged him. Her arthritic body trembled slightly making Cecil hold all the more tightly to the embrace.

“Things are gonna get better hon’,” she murmured in reassuring tones, “I promise.”

“Thanks, Josie.”

“Alright, c’mon now,” she said, letting go and tapping his legs with the cane. “scoot.” He stood aside.

_“Ahh, I’m gettin’ too old.”_ She groaned, creaking onto the cushions and motioning for Cecil to join her.

“Good.” The old woman grunted when he’d sat. “Now where’s Aggie? Aggie!”

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“Sweet Void!” Josie jolted but quickly recovered as she swatted her cane to the left. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“It’s impolite to attack guests.” The reedy voice admonished dryly. “Thankfully your aim is as bad as your eyesight.”

_“Whydon’tyouc’mereandI’llgiveyouwhatfer.”_ She grumbled but there was a notable smile hidden in her wrinkled face.

“Alright then,” she huffed, “s’pose we should get started, poor Cecil’s startin’ to look confused as ever.”

“Well, no,” Cecil replied, wringing his hands ever so slightly. “I’m just, well, Earl said that he could-and The Faceless Old Woman told me-and” he stumbled over his words, the reality of _“help”_ suddenly dawning on him and he had no idea how to approach it.

“First things first,” Earl cut in, returning to the couch from the conversation he'd been holding with Erika, “we need to explain the basics of what we have planned. We don’t want to overwhelm you, Cecil, although I’m pretty sure some of us haven’t taken that into consideration.”

He shot a look at Josie.

“We needed Erika here anyways, Harlan!” The old crow retorted.

_“Yes,”_ he hissed in her ear as he perched onto the arm of the couch, _“but with Cecil’s current condition, we can’t afford to startle him the way you did.”_

“Which reminds me,” Josie’s voice trailed as she blatantly ignored Earl's chastisement. “Erika, you can stop showin’ off now, put them darn wings away and get to yer normal size!”

“I’m not being showy, Josie,” the being replied haughtily and added with fiery sarcasm, “but I _apologize_ for my natural, anatomical dimensions.”

Josie shot a glare that could have frozen helium and the angel shrank back ever so slightly.

_“Remember yer place.”_ She growled and the being sighed as they held up defeated hands. There was a soft whooshing sound as they retracted themselves to what could hardly be deemed a normal size but they did seem a little less imposing.

“Good,” Josie thumped her cane on the floor in satisfaction. “Now where were we?”

“You were attempting to convey your plans to Cecil without causing him cardiac dysfunction or a relapse into another year long depression.”

“What-?” Cecil started but Josie cut him off.

“Thanks, Aggie.” Her tone icy. “Now why don’t you go make yerself useful and get us some tea.”

“I’m not your waitress.”

“Well you’re certainly not helping!” Earl retorted, jumping up and facing the direction of her voice. “We’re here to help Cecil and if you don’t want to be a part of that then please just leave so _we_ can.”

If The Faceless Old Woman had had a face or any other physical aspect visible to humans, it would have been quite clear just how sharply those words stung. And yet she said nothing in reply as she skittered away, a thin line scratching along the hardwood floor where her fingernail imbedded itself, harshly.

“Sorry, Cecil.” Earl huffed, sitting back down and glaring in the direction of the trailing mark on the floor. “We thought she would be on board with us but she’s been so impossible!”

“It’s fine,” Cecil replied, “I’m fine, well not fine as far as… you know.” He shook his head. “If she doesn’t care, so what? All that matters is that-that I have you all to help me, right?”

Josie and Earl nodded.

“Right!” Cecil repeated. “And so that’s all I care about now. All I care is that you want to, um, help me. _Oh_ ,” he muttered into his hands, _“that sounds so selfish!”_

Josie lifted his chin with a gentle finger. “Ain’t nothin’ selfish about it. We said we’d help and that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

“That is _if_ we can help.” Erika remarked, more invested in placing a few stray feathers back in place than the weight of the words they had just delivered..

Cecil looked at the angel who simply shrugged with the same indifference The Faceless Old Woman had been exhibiting for the past nine and half months. He felt his stomach sink, all the hope that had built up from the past few minutes of conversation were immediately dashed by the being’s complete lack of empathy.

“Yer walkin’ a thin line, Erika.” Josie growled and the angel softened their demeanor.

“No no, Josie, you’ve got it all wrong.” They said. “There’s a high probability this will work but a few factors have me worried, that’s all.”

“Like what, exactly?” Earl asked, standing and folding his arms.

“Well,” the angel replied, “you, for one thing, Earl.”

“What about me?”

“You’re not the Scoutmaster anymore so who’s to say you still have enough summoning power left? There’s only so much aid I can give you, and he,” they motioned to Cecil, “might not even have enough strength to go through with it! Yeah, a hopeful heart can certainly supply enough fuel the first time, but what happens when it starts breaking again?”

“We’re at least going to _try_!” Earl shouted.

“I know!” Erika yelled, the exasperation sparking through their wings in bolts of copper electricity. “I’m not saying we _weren’t_ I was just stating that-!”

“Hold on!” Cecil interjected, standing bruskly from the couch, his face contorted with confusion. “What's going on! What are you talking about!”

The angel and ex-Scoutmaster’s retorts stalled in their throats and they looked from each other to Cecil and back again.

_“I knew I shoulda done this by myself.”_ Josie muttered. “Ah ah!” She tutted, waving her cane in a gesture that meant she wanted neither of them to talk. “Not another word from you two! Cecil darlin’” her tone dropped to a motherly compassion, “C’mere.”

“Wh-what are they talking about, Josie?” He stuttered, fresh tears starting in his eyes. “I j-just thought you were all here to h-help me get over C-Carlos somehow!”

“Oh hon’-”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Cecil quavered, looking desperately from Earl and Josie, his face unsure if it should relay hope or disappointment.

_“That would be easier.”_ The angel mumbled.

_“Shut up!”_ Earl hissed, glaring and then softening his face in an apologetic expression to Josie. “I’m sorry, Josie, go on.”

“Cecil, listen,” she continued, completely ignoring Earl, “all this talk about summoning and hope, haven’t you understood yet what we’re doing for you?”

“I-I don’t know, Josie I-Earl said something about bloodstones and chants and we need Erika but why, Josie? Just-just tell me why! Don’t leave me guessing anymore, please!” He took both of her hands. “Please just tell me what’s going on. How are you going to help me?”

“Oh Cecil, darlin’...” she shook her head gently, staring solemnly at the floor. He waited with bated breaths but it wasn’t her who replied. Instead a rough hand rested gently on his shoulder and he turned to see Earl, eyes glistening with tears and wide smile on his face.

“Cecil, we’re going to help bring Carlos home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ew, fluff and hope. I'm gonna have to be extra mean in my next chapters to make up for this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are revealed and "Aggie's" intentions may not be what they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps self*  
> I am so very sorry for the delay. School was, well, /school/ and inspiration was *pffft*. I promise I'll try my hardest to get the next chapter up soon. Drop a comment by and let me know what you think because I feel like the plot is slipping out of control. I dunno, I've stared at these chapters enough to make me want to tear my brainstem out, so I'd love feedback from fresher eyes.

There were a few seconds of dense silence in which Cecil did nothing but stare at Earl, his mouth fixed in half open shock.

_“What did you say?”_ His voice was barely above a whisper but it rose to an octave indicative of disbelieving hope. He stood shakily from the couch and Earl gathered him into a close hug, resting his chin on the radio host’s damp hair.

“We’re bringing Carlos home.” He repeated, though in a much gentler tone.

The room went silent again, save for Cecil’s quiet sniffling, and Josie and Erika waited while Earl consoled his friend.

Cecil mumbled something into the redhead’s shoulder.

“Hm?” Earl loosened his embrace and Cecil lifted his head.

“I said ‘I’m dreaming, aren’t I?’”

“No,” Earl took one of his hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “you’re not. Cecil, this is real. _We are going to help you_.”

The radio host shook his head. “ _No_. I know I’m dreaming. I’ll just wake up and none of you will be here. Carlos will still be dead and I’ll still be alone.”

“If you _are_ dreaming,” a voice from the ceiling interrupted, signifying she had decided to rejoin the conversation, “then how am _I_ here?”

Everyone looked up at the sound of her skittering and when she spoke again, her words came from just behind Cecil’s shoulder, making him jump.

“I do not allow myself into dreams. Your mind is too vulnerable at that stage of sleeping and is too great a temptation for me. My influences would prove dire to your weak human psyche and I could stop myself from destroying you should I ever enter it.”

_“Uhm…”_ Earl’s voice trailed off at her unnerving confession, “I suppose that’s-”

“Prove it!” Cecil cut in. “Prove it’s not a dream and I’m not just creating this.”

A dusty sigh sounded as Cecil clenched his fists, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

“Jest do it, Aggie!” Josie looked sternly over the radio host’s tensed shoulder, her eyes narrowing.

“Fine,” The voice was defiant and bland, “but he won’t like it.”

“Like wh-” but Cecil's question was halted as his entire body suddenly froze, a memory tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

_Glass, teasing with a reflection he can’t quite see. His hand reaches out to touch it, as something flickers, a buzzing just over his shoulder. The mirror shatters into millions of razor edged shards. There is blood, there is so much blood…_

Earl swiftly caught Cecil as his legs gave out and guided him back onto the couch.

“That was really unnecessary!” He hissed in no particular direction.

“But had this been a dream,” she retorted from underneath the couch, “I would have been able to reveal the entire memory. Had this been a fiction in his mind that I were able to infiltrate, he would have become locked in a comatose state of horrific existentialism and imperceptible realization.”

“Thank you!” Josie thumped her cane onto the hardwood, silencing The Faceless Old Woman. “That’s enough, Aggie. Cecil, darlin’,” she turned to the shaking radio host and tapped his downturned chin with her cane, “ya see? We’re really gonna help. So long as Erika knows what they’re doin’ an’ Harlan still has his handbook we should be all set.”

Cecil released a shuddering sigh, becoming somewhat grounded by her steady words and Earl’s reassuring hand now always on his shoulder.

“Okay,” Earl and Josie smiled, “okay, I believe you, but can you really bring Carlos back? Resurrections were banned decades ago and The City Council ensured all pertaining chants and bloodstone arrangements were erased from human and non-human memory. How are you-we-how are _we_ supposed to bring Carlos back if we have no ritual to do so?”

The angel, who had been extremely interested in preening their ruby wings, suddenly offered an interest in the conversation, and Cecil tensed as he tried to listen to what they were saying while simultaneously denying their existence.

“What they’ve neglected to tell you, Cecil,” they said, “is that we aren’t actually bringing Carlos back to life. _Ah!_ No, just listen.” They held up their hands to halt Cecil’s interjection and Earl rubbed his back to calm him.

“It’s as you’ve said, we don’t have the materials to properly restore life and even if we did, we don’t have Carlos’s body so it wouldn’t work anyway.”

Cecil’s shoulders deflated and he sighed, a single tear working slowly down his cheek.

“But what we do have, is you.”

“Me? How am I going to help?” Cecil’s eyes flicked to angel for a second before focusing on a point just above their head.

“There are other means by which the dead can be brought back. Not in a perfectly corporeal form.” The angel added, “No, that’s impossible, even for me to do. But what we can do is manifest him onto our material plane for extended periods of time.

“You’ve noticed the bloodstones they put around the stadium during Homecoming, right?”

“And the humming?” Earl added and Cecil looked from him to that point above the angel and back again, trying to see what they were getting at.

“Yes, it's-yes I’ve heard it but I never thought to question it.” Cecil hiccupped slightly before continuing. “But I’m confused, what does this all have to do with bringing Carlos home?”

“Well,” the angel shrugged, “how do you think all of those people are able to come back from the Void? How are they all on that field, tangible, audible, and not just some ghostly apparition?”

Cecil’s eyes widened as the pieces suddenly clicked and he muttered under his breath, _“so that’s how they do it.”_

The angel leaned back into the cushions and crossed their arms in a satisfied manner.

“Exactly, Cecil, and that’s how we’re bringing Carlos back.”

Cecil stared at his hands, his mind buzzing as it tried to process this influx of information.

“So,” he said after a moment, “we can manifest him like they do at Homecoming… _but he’ll never truly be home_.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms to stem the oncoming flow of tears and sniffled.

“Unfortunately, yes, Cecil,” Josie placed an arthritic hand on his knee, “but it’s the best solution we’ve come up with.”

Cecil smiled through his tears, “Okay, I-yes, it’s great, you are all so-this is all so great, thank you.”

He hugged Josie warmly then wiped away the last of his tears.

“So how will this all work? Earl,” he turned to the ex-Scoutmaster, “do you know the chants and the bloodstone arrangements?”

“Well,” the redhead held out his hands, palms upturned, “not _exactly_. See, we-Josie, Erika, and I-wanted to tell you first before we tried to get the documents from City Hall. That way if you said ‘no’, we wouldn’t have risked our lives for nothing.”

“Why would I ever say no to this? Earl, you are offering to help me see the love of my life again, what would make you think I would ever deny that?”

“Actually,” Josie said, “that was Aggie’s idea.”

“And a perfectly logical one at that.” She hissed from under the coffee table.

_“Here we go.”_ The angel rolled their eyes.

“It’s completely understandable that I feel this is a bad idea and that I would assume he would think so, too. He’s getting better on his own and now you’re dangling this hope like a baited hook for a Nutmeg. I proposed you shouldn’t even mention this to him, do not reveal to him that there are ways to manifest the dead. It will only hurt him in the future and far worse than any of you can imagine.”

“And how do you know this?!” Earl spat. “How do you _know_ he’s going to get hurt. We’re trying to help and it seems that every chance you get, you shoot down our plans. Do you not want Cecil to get better? Do you want him to continue on the way he is? How can you know he’ll be worse off if you won’t even give us a chance to try?”

“BECAUSE I HAVE SEEN WHAT WILL HAPPEN!”

Cold silence filled the room as her words rang in everyone’s ears.

_“What?”_

But she skittered away and Cecil’s question was left unanswered so he turned to Earl and Josie.

“What does that mean? Why did she say that?”

“It means absolutely nothin’, Cecil.” Josie stood up defiantly, denying Erika’s offered arm for assistance. “She’s been in a mood lately an’ don’t know what she’s sayin’ half the time. Don’t you worry,” she reassured as she made her way over to the center of the living room, “we’re gonna get that scientist back fer ya. Ain’t no one gettin’ in the way of that, I promise.”

Josie had a way with her tones and Cecil immediately felt the worry instilled by The Faceless Old Woman’s grating statement melt away.

“Just forget her, Cecil.” Earl said, “If she’s only going to be a hindrance, it’s best we ignore her from here on out.”

Josie and Erika nodded in agreement and Cecil acknowledged this with his own nod.

“Well…” he asked, “Where exactly do we go from here?”

“First things first,” Josie thumped her cane along with the syllables of the words, “Harlan an’ Erika gotta break into City Hall- _yes, Erika, ‘break in’. I don’t give a rat’s ass if the Secret Police can hear, ‘sides, I payed ‘em off_ -an’ get the instructions for the bloodstones an’ chants. Without those, there’s no hope of this working.”

“You’re really going to do that, Earl?” Cecil gaped at his friend, utterly flattered that he was willing to put himself in peril just for him.

“M-hm,” the redhead confirmed, “like Josie said, we need them or none of this will work.”

“Thank you so much Earl!” Cecil threw his arms around the his friend's neck and when he let go, Earl could see he was crying again. This time, however, he knew it wasn’t from sadness and he smiled.

“And you too, Josie.” He embraced her frail body before she stepped into the angel’s wings.

“Erika,” Cecil focused on the point above their head, “if you existed, I would want you to know that I am extremely grateful for what you are doing for me.”

“Sure,” they replied dully, but Cecil saw something of a smile in his lower periphery.

“Alright,” Josie thunked her came on the floor, “Erika an’ I gotta git some stuff together but we’ll see ya in a bit, Cecil. Harlan, get him situated an’ tell him whatever else he needs ‘t know then you an’ Erika gotta start plannin’.”

“Sure thing, Josie.”

“Good, now step back y’all, Erika tends to be a bit showy when teleporting.”

The angel rolled their eyes but said nothing as they wrapped her in a cocoon of crimson feathers. Bolts of copper raced through their wings and a loud crack blasted through the apartment as they disappeared.

Cecil coughed, waving away the dust that was now swirling furiously about the room before gathering Earl into another hug and planting an unexpected kiss on his cheek.

The chef’s face burned but Cecil took no notice of it as he pulled away.

“Thank you Earl. Thank you so very much, I-” his voice hitched as his throat constricted, “I just don’t know where I would be without you.”

Earl’s cheeks were on fire but he tried to laugh it off. “Me neither Ceec, I mean, you were an _awful_ scout. I saved your butt like, what, a dozen times?”

Cecil half laughed half hiccupped and playfully punched his friend’s arm.

“I wasn’t _that_ bad… was I?”

Earl wrapped his arm around the radio host’s shoulder and led him back to the couch.

“No, Cecil, you weren’t all that bad. But then again, I’ll be the one breaking into City Hall, not you.”

The playfulness of the past few seconds immediately dissolved in the air and Cecil’s wide smile thinned as they sat.

“Wow…” he rubbed the back of his head, “So this is really happening.” He blew into his hands as his leg began to tap furiously. “Wow, just, you are all willing to risk so much to help me.”

“Of course, Cecil, we would do anything for you.”

Earl rested his hand on Cecil’s leg and he stopped tapping almost immediately.

“Well…”

“Well…” Cecil replied

“Well… I-I suppose we’d better get started. I’ve got a lot to explain so you might as well get comfortable.”

Cecil took this literally and snuggled up against Earl, clutching tight to a pillow. He could hear the chef’s heart beating quickly but the sound only comforted him further and he let out a wistful sigh.

“Okay. Tell me everything I need to know.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

She was angry.

No, not angry. She didn’t get angry.

Then what was she? Why did she feel this way? Was she angry?

She couldn’t exactly rule out the possibility. She’d never been angry so how could she say for certain that this alien feeling wasn’t anger?

So maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. Either way, she found herself pulling at her hair and sobbing invisible tears as she huddled in the darkest corner of the AC vent. She cursed herself for what she had said, for what she had told them, for what she had seen because she knew that was one of the catalysts. Those words she had uttered, they had already been set for her, a trap for her to stumble into. She had known there was no avoiding them because she had already seen the future, she had seen what would happen, and still, she had foolishly believed she could alter what was already set in stone.

So yes, she was angry, but not with any of them. Not with Josie, Erika, or Earl, and especially not Cecil. She was angry with herself because she had just set future events into motion. She had just become part of the endless, winding river of time and the inevitable currents and maelstroms that sucked the observantly unsuspecting into oblivion. She had just sealed the fate of an innocent person, and this realization brought a fresh onslaught of nonexistent tears. The sobbing wracked her frail body as she hugged her legs closer to her chest, finally letting her pent up emotions out, and she wished the pain would rip her heart in half so she, too, could die. But she couldn't die because that was not her future.

It was someone else's. 

***

 

Earl was finishing packing when a deafening explosion jolted him from the task.

 _"Christ!"_  He exclaimed. Electricity raced in tiny sparks while garnet and gold wings filled the room. "Don't do that, you guys!"

"Sorry." The angels shrugged, yet smiling all the same. Airne leaned against the doorframe, feathers settling, neck bent just a bit too awkwardly to accommodate his oversized stature while Marcus sprawled onto the bed, hands under his chin and feet kicking childishly behind him as if he were gossiping over the phone to his best friend.

"It's fine." Earl breathed, his heart attempting to regain its normal speed. "But there's really no way you can, _I dunno_ , put yourselves on silent or something?"

Marcus shook his head. "We’re angels not androids."

"Yeah, I know." Earl said as he stood, slinging the pack over his shoulder.

"So you're all set then?"

"I suppose..."

 _"Buuut."_  Airne could hear the hesitation in Earl's response.

"But... I guess... I kinda just wish there was an easier way to do this. You're sure we can't teleport?"

 _"Uuuuuugh,"_  Marcus sighed, rolling off the bed and hopping to his feet only to sit back down. "Earl, we've been over this,  _like_ , a hundred times already! Don't you think we would let you know if there was another way?”

“Yeah, no I know." Earl replied quickly. "But I was just thinking… Everyone’s so scared of your existence, right? And if the Council is anything like Cecil used to be, wouldn't they just avoid you like the plague?”

“It’s not that easy.” Airne huffed. “I mean, yeah, they’re scared alright, but they’re certainly not scared to  _engage_  us.” He joined Marcus on the bed who took his hand and gave it a light kiss. “Remember the time they lured us into that meeting about whether or not it's illegal game tampering if the players appeal to angels?”

“Uhhh...  _kinda?”_ Earl narrowed his eyes as though he were trying to see something that kept slipping out of view. “It’s all a little murky. Being stuck in the Void for a year and half kinda messes with your memory.”

“Well it was a trap.” The angel said. “They were trying to capture us. And even if they did turn a blind eye,  _like most ignorant cowards,_ we still can’t have them knowing we were in City Hall.”

Marcus nodded in agreement, turning his attention from straightening a few of his lover’s stray feathers.

“They absolutely cannot be there when we are.” Airne continued. “Cecil is more than willing to play his part so we can play ours, and ours does not include teleporting. I'm sorry, it's just too risky."

Earl sighed, "Yeah, I know." And Marcus stood to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“We'll be fine. I mean, you're the Scoutmaster-"

"Ex-Scoutmaster." Earl corrected.

"Right, whatever, and I'm an angel. We're, like, two of the most powerful beings in existence! I took on StrexCorp office worker's and you survived the Void. I'm  _pretty sure_  we'll get out of this unscathed."

"Okay…” But Earl's thoughts were elsewhere.

Airne stood and joined them

"Hey, what's going on up there?" He playfully poked Earl's temple, but his tone was soothing and gentle.

"Too much to put a label on." The redhead replied, his tone deflated and sad. Airne and Marcus looked at one another. Both could feel the pang of sorrow in each other’s hearts and the need to just embrace the poor man and never let go. But they didn't and instead said, "C'mon, we should go. Josie'll be pissed if we're late."

"Yeah, alright." Earl shook his head to clear the thoughts congregating there in thick droves. "Let's go."

He shifted the strap of his pack so it wouldn't slip off before stepping close to Airne. There was a muted rustling, like leaves teased by a soft breeze, as the ruby wings enveloped him. He heard muffled words as Marcus said something followed by a loud crack which meant he’d gone ahead to Josie’s.

"Hold on." Airne said, and Earl wrapped his arms around the angel's torso.

To his astonishment, there was no splintering crack as they stepped through the very fabric of the universe. Instead, Earl felt like he was floating, not above something, but out of himself. It lasted only faster than the blink of an eye and then he was in Josie's living room, but in that infinitesimal increment of time, Earl experienced a sensation he would never forget. It wasn't, however, the feeling of detachment from his body or the blissful unawareness of existence itself. Instead, it was the faint but grounding sensation of Airne's arms holding tightly to him, the feeling almost too fleeting to confirm, and yet there all the same.

*

"Erika!" Josie called from the living room. "Git the door!"

A lesser angel with wings of fire opal scurried from the kitchen to the front door and let a very nervous but very excited radio host in.

"Hi Erika." He said, immediately focusing on that now familiar point above the angel's eyes. Over the past month, he'd learned to tolerate them, but he still wouldn't fully accept their existence.

"Hi Cecil, Josie's in the living room."

"Thanks."

They gave an acknowledging smile before hurrying back to the kitchen.

"So, y' ready fer this?" Josie asked, patting the seat next to her. Cecil took it and nodded.

"As I'll ever be. I'm just… really nervous."

"Yeah, that's t' be expected. But we'll do fine. Th' City Council chickens out at th' slightest mention a' danger. ‘S long as Harlan an' Erika can git in, everything should go smoothly enough." She placed a reassuring hand on his knee, and he smiled in reply.

“Hey Josie?” The lesser poked their head in from the kitchen, a guilty look on their face as the telltale smell of burned corn muffins wafted into the living room.

“Erika, I swear!” The old woman chastised. “I used the last of my salt for those!”

“I know!” They winced. “I’m sorry, just-”

They were cut off as Marcus suddenly joined them with a thundering blast, followed closely by Airne and Earl.

“Good!” Josie exclaimed once the foundation of the house stopped shuddering. “We’re all here.”

The lesser, meanwhile, had ducked back into the kitchen to try to alleviate the smell.

Marcus took a seat on the floor in front of the couch while Airne opened his wings to relinquish Earl who, Cecil noted, looked just a little bit flushed around the freckles. He would have brought this to everyone’s attention in a teasing manner if he still had the mentality of a 15 year old _and_ if the proceeding events were not so dire.

“Hey Earl.” He said, and then with an acknowledging nod, “Erikas.” He still wouldn’t give the angels direct eye contact.

“Hey.” Marcus gave a curt wave before pulling Airne down so he could fuss with his feathers again.

“Hey Ceec.” Earl gave a little smile as he took to the sagging armchair. “You ready?”

The radio host nodded, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Now don’t you start cryin’ agin’!” Josie scolded.

“ _Nnn_ , I’m sorry.” He apologized, wiping at the corners of his eyes. “I’m just so grateful that you’re all doing this for me.”

“Heh. You act like you’re the only one who misses your boyfriend’s perfect hair.” Marcus teased, and Cecil’s shoulders eased a bit as he chuckled.

“If yer crackin’ jokes, y’ must be ready t’ pull this off then.” Josie remarked sternly, stamping her cane definitively.

The room went silent again, and Cecil suddenly found his hands to be incredibly interesting.

“I don’t mean to be a stick in th’ mud,” she continued, her tone softer, “but this is some serious stuff we’re aimin’ t’ do an’ I gotta make sure we’re all gonna be safe.”

“We’ll all be…  _fine_.” Earl said, his eyes staring sightlessly ahead, and Airne and Marcus exchanged concerned looks.

 _“Hmph."_ Josie grunted. There was another long silence before she banged her cane again, making them all jump.

“Well then! Let’s hop to it!” She stood spryly from the couch, and everyone felt a surge of adrenaline, a little more nausea on Cecil’s part, but with an overall sense of excitement.

“So Cecil, Erika here’ll accompany you to the station an’ yer jest gonna hafta deal with their sass-mouth, sorry.”

Marcus sighed and rolled his eyes. “What _ever_.”

Airne kissed his temple and stood, helping him to his feet.

“Shame you gotta deal with this one.” Josie smacked Marcus’s leg. “But they’re pretty good at summoning, so I guess yer stuck with ‘em.”

“Hey!” Marcus exclaimed and Airne took him aside.

“You’re lucky.” He said, smoothing his lover's bristling wings. “You know how terrifying it’s going to be going up against the Council?”

“Yeah,” Marcus agreed, “but at least  _you’ve_  got the cute redhead.” He grinned as a look of jealousy and embarrassment came over Airne’s face. “Kidding,  _jeez_.” Marcus chuckled. “Well, not really, we should have him over for dinner after this is all over.”

“Hm, not priority, Marcus, and what would Jake think?”

“He’d think we’re both whores with excellent taste in men.” Marcus replied matter of factly, and Airne gave him a look. “Yeah, whatever, you’re right, not priority. I just don’t know how to go about this whole _‘be careful cause it’d really suck if you died’_  thing.”

“Oh, well that makes me feel lov- _Hey!”_  Airne exclaimed as Marcus gathered him in a close hug.

“Seriously, just be safe. I love you too much for you to do something stupid.”

“I love you, too.” Airne relaxed into the embrace until Josie told them to either get a room or get a move on.

They shared another quick kiss before Marcus coaxed Cecil close enough to wrap him in his golden wings and vanish with a loud crack. Earl, who hadn’t said anything since his hesitant admittance that they’d all be fine, stood with a perplexed glaze on his face.

“Earl, listen-” Airne started.

“We gotta have you at one hundred percent.” Josie cut in. “Ain’t no room fer slip-ups.”

“I’m fine.” Again, the word fell dead.

“Great.” Josie said, grabbing her crocheted bag of bloodstones. “Then let’s-”

“JOSIE!” The lesser suddenly burst from the kitchen. “Josie wait! I don’t think-”

“Erika I don’t have time fer this!”

“It’s the muffins!” They persisted. “Something happened! I don’t know-”

“You burned ‘em is what happened!”

They shook their head adamantly.

“No it’s not that, look!”

They produced a try of scorched muffins with scrying symbols singed into their deflated crowns.

“What?” Josie shrugged, agitated.

“What do you mean  _‘what?’_ , the symbols, Josie, look at them!”

“Well a course they got them symbols!” She thumped her cane angrily.

The lesser’s mouth closed and opened again as they tried to understand.

“Ya messed up a ritual baking that’d been sealed with ancient chants, ya idiot. I’d be more surprised if they  _hadn't_  done that.”

They tried to reply, but Josie had already waved them off and turned back to Airne and Earl.

“Alrighty, let’s git a move on.’

Airne gave the lesser a sympathetic look before Josie disappeared into his plummage. He returned a split second after dropping her off, leaving Earl little time to think about the implications of burned muffins.

“Ready?” Airne asked.

Earl nodded, but the way he held so tightly as they teleported told the angel that he really wasn’t.

*

The lesser sighed and turned back to the kitchen to set up the recipe anew for when Josie got back. As they dumped the ruined muffins into the garbage, they felt a faint tickle between their shoulder blades.

They spun around but there was nothing there.

Shivering slightly, they turned back to cleaning out the burned tray.

_“Shay… those were supposed to warn them.”_

“Who’s there!”

The angel’s hands hardened into crystallized fists as she turned defensive circles, looking for the source of the reedy voice.

There was a skittering and then the words  _“What have you done? What have I done?”_  before Shay was left in silence once more. Her wings bristled in anticipation, and the faint crackle of gemstone armor hardening over her body echoed softly in the empty kitchen. She stood stock still for another few seconds before deciding that she really didn’t like the expectant and malevolent vibe she was receiving and, with a loud blast, she left.

Had the angel stayed just a bit longer and looked and listened just a bit harder, she would have found the crumpled old woman atop the refrigerator sobbing silent tears and regretting her own omniscience.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short little chapter to set up the premise of part 2. And no, what's going to happen is probably not what you're thinking. Also this sequel won't be too sad. I can't really promise the same for part 3, though...


End file.
